


Somethin' is a-brewin'

by AvengersShip



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Shit I don't know if there will be a part two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:12:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersShip/pseuds/AvengersShip
Summary: Lance loves coffee. He's married to it. But someone is brewing something better than coffee and he can't get enough of it.





	Somethin' is a-brewin'

**Author's Note:**

> Ehh it's been too long. And it'll be longer because I don't have a lot of time here as much as I used to. I did this weeks ago and decided to submit it because why not?  
> Hope you like it.

Lance is sure the sweet aroma when he stepped into his favorite coffee shop is not caramel cream honey. But the caramel is his all-time favorite, nothing in this damaging world of hell is better suited as heaven than caramel.

His mouth waters and he’s dazed to the sweet treat-not the donuts, pastries, or even his favorite buttermilk muffins fresh from the oven the old lady most likely put up front the counter. It’s fucking close, so very very close, like pressing up against his body close. He must be right on top of-

“What the fuck!”

He opens his eyes to the yelp and jolt of someone below him and realizes his head is resting on top of shaggy black hair. Soft, citrus-fruit smelling, shaggy black hair. And a pair of flaming green eyes on him from across the table that aren’t friendly or happy to see him.

“Dude, get the fuck off my head.” A voice rumbles below. And Lance is so dazed that the angry request almost goes unnoticed. Until a hand yanks his baby blue hoodie.

“Ow! Hey!”

“He asked you to get off, pervert.” The other voice growled. He tugged against the grip in his jacket but the hand, a small one, tightens its grip and pulls him farther away from the sweet smell in front of him.

“If you weren’t a stranger invading my friend’s personal space I would’ve laughed at his reaction. Now shove off.” They release him and he stands up straight, soothing out the crinkled mess where the hand was.

“Wait, wait, just give me a minute to explain-” Lance exclaimed.

“Okay, you got 30 seconds, go.”

“Can’t I have a minute?”

“Nope, five seconds already gone, talk.”

“Okay okay, um, I-I came in to get my all-time favorite caffeine to start the day but this scent is like ‘SMACK’ in my face and all over the place like it’s stinking up the air- n-not actually bad smelling, I think it’s a great smell, like so fucking delicious but-uhh that’s not meant to be sexual, I’m sorry I-”

“Yeah okay I get the message.”

“-so I erm, uhh, you know, got caught in a haze and followed it but I am honest when I say I am so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean to cause your friend discomfort, um…?”

“… Pidge.”

Lance doesn’t question the name. He’s getting somewhere and won’t lose this opportunity to fix this.

“Lance.” He offers quickly. “So… sorry.”

“Apologize to him.” They point to the staring boy sitting in his respective booth, eyes narrowed at Lance with suspicion.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to molest your hair. By the way, it smells great!” Red strains the slightly pale skinned cheeks, climbing all the way up to his ears in the progress as his bottom lip trembles. Lance can see the inner battle going on in his eyes and then the boy is turning away with a pout. Cute.

“What are you, a blood hound?” Pidge snorts, her demeanor more playful than a force field wall of barbed wires. “He doesn’t have his heat yet you thought he was in one.”

“I got it from my mama.” Lance grinned. “She has a knack for whiffing out the strongest of scents. Plus she tracks us down when we skip bathtime. Can’t miss the scent of shit on me unfortunately…”

Pidge laughed. “You smell like shit?”

“Nnnooo but me baby cousin does when he jumps in a mud pit, and when he visits he likes to get dirt on me and I suffer from my ma’s overbearing nag to take a shower after they leave. Sometimes sooner rather than later.”

Lance relaxes the more they converse. Pidge is also calm and their scent has settled to bearable smell. The small cafe isn’t made for fights and the owners are far from tolerant when shit hits the fan. The place is home for many young and familiars and a secure place for distressed folks that would like to nibble on a fresh cinnamon bun or muffin. Wedged almost out of sight by large brick buildings, the shop doesn’t attract a large crowd but that’s not a huge deal because it wasn’t made to hold in more than a 10-15 people, that includes children. It’s a little pricey but not something Lance minds and works well for middle-class and lower-class minorities who like quality-based food and not fake, pastey, sugary junkfood. Their food is real! And Lance will beat anyone’s ass who says otherwise.

The conversation has dropped the tension and minimized the aggravation within Pidge’s body to a substantial amount, shoulders lowered, hackles dropped, eyes wrinkled in a fond smile, and scent normal.

She smelt quite nice, cherries and clean laundry clothes. A young Beta on her way.

Then that would mean…

Lance looks toward the boy who isn’t looking their way anymore but is getting up and leaving.

Wait.

“Um!” Lance calls out and the boy stiffens. “I’m Lance.”

No response.

Lance sweats and taps the heel of his foot on the tile as he waits for the other to give him a sign. Anything. Pidge is looking over too but with worry than the fondness from earlier. Lance feared he’s lost this one. God, he can’t believe he invaded the cute boy’s space and for what? A sickly sweet scent that can water the dryest of deserted areas back to life. But the scent....

The boy moved towards the door then turns around, pointedly not looking at Lance.

“Pidge!” He barks.

The young girl waved her arm at him in indication and faces Lance with that gentle smile.

“If you’re not a creepy pervert, we’ll be hear tomorrow."

She leaves with her friend and Lance stands in the middle of the coffee shop.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow!” Lance repeats. “Yeah, I can work with that. Wait... what time do I need to be there?”

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Tell me what you think so I can try to approve or drop a suggestion so possible inspiration to write a follow-up.


End file.
